428
by somebody101
Summary: Everyone has fears. Most fears can be buried, even forgotten, until something draws them back to the surface. For one man it only takes three numbers, and the knowledge of what those simple numbers mean.


**428

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428. Three numbers he was scared to death of.

Every night when he heard Grissom say those three numbers his eyes would close, and he would count down from ten before praying that someone else would get the case. At times he wondered just what he would do to get out of such cases.

Cases that tore right into his heart, and opened a door he wanted desperately to remain closed. It was a door that was better left undisturbed. One that, had it been a physical door, would've had a large sign on it reading 'danger'. Nothing good ever really came from the door opening.

The last time it had been wrenched open he had felt her struggle to keep it open. Catherine hadn't wanted him to close the door, and he knew she thought it would help him heal if it were out in the open.

"_It'll help Nick, I think you should talk about it."_

But Nick knew better. Talking made him remember. Talking brought back the pain that he wanted to go away. It wouldn't solve anything; nothing could solve it except the grace of his memory allowing him to forget that one night. For a brief moment he wondered if Catherine even remembered after all these years. He hoped she couldn't. After all, he had already dumped too many of his problems on his friends; an option he never wanted to use again.

After all, it seemed so trivial when he had been stalked, and especially when he had been abducted. It made him feel utterly pathetic. A feeling he was becoming more and more familiar with as the days passed. To Nick it was better than what he usually felt, though. Shame was far worse, and guilt wasn't any better.

That was what he was used to. In a way, he guessed he had always been pathetic, but had just never really known or understood it. And he knew that he would always blame himself for each and every terrible moment in his life. In the end, he had been careless. He hadn't been paying close enough attention when Walter Gordon had abducted him. He had procrastinated when it had come to cleaning out his attic, where he would have found the peepholes, and immediately known something was wrong without ever having been pushed out a window. He had broken his parents' trust, forcing them to hire a babysitter one last time to look after him while they were gone for the night.

He could no longer count the number of times he wished he could be someone else. Someone who hadn't gone through so much, and wasn't a freak. Only wishing for that didn't help. He knew he was weak, and he knew that he should be able to live and deal with his own problems. Plenty of people suffered through traumatic experiences worse than any of those he had been a part of, and plenty of those people recovered completely.

Nick hadn't recovered. He could fool himself at times, but the truth was that the door opened too often. If not when he was awake then it would happen in his nightmares. Terrifying images would plague his dreams, and when he woke up he'd will himself to forget that the door had ever opened.

Now his greatest fear was being called out on a 428. A molested child. A case where he'd undoubtedly be dragged through the mud, and beaten senseless until the door would force itself open and he'd break apart.

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"_I heard there was a 428 down at that one elementary school. The call made it sound like it might have been more than just one kid too. Gonna be a hell of a night for whoever Grissom puts on that case."_

Nick's heart immediately sped up. He silently prayed that it wouldn't be him. There was no way he'd be able to keep that door closed when he saw those kids. A part of him would tell himself that he knew what they were going through, but he knew better.

They were going to have to actually face what happened to them. There wouldn't be a chance to hide it, to keep it a secret. Nick knew it was actually a good thing, he knew that, in the end, they'd be able to look at themselves in the mirror and not see a coward. Maybe they'd even be able to live with having that door wide open. Not worrying constantly about that dirty skeleton in the closet.

He took the chair farthest from everyone, trying his best to remain unnoticed. At least he knew no one would question his actions after what happened that May. Grissom breezed into the room and in a matter of seconds everyone had been given their assignment. When Grissom handed him the slip of paper describing the 428 his heart plummeted. Everyone else quickly took off, and Nick followed. Just as Grissom was about to head into his office to grab his coat he followed him in and closed the door.

"Grissom, could we-" He couldn't finish it though. He couldn't open that door, and tell Grissom what had happened to him when he was only nine years old. Nick couldn't ask to be taken off the case and force someone else to take on that emotional burden.

"Could we what Nick?"

_Talk._ It was what he wanted to say, but knew he never could. Instead he backed down, "Uh, nevermind. I, uh, ought to get to that crime scene. Won't process itself…" He quickly turned and made his way out of Grissom's office. He was relieved when he realized that it would probably just be considered another brief, irrational moment due to the trauma of being buried alive. The man would probably think nothing of it, at least not before Nick came up with a real excuse for his actions.

All he knew was that he had to keep the door shut, the skeleton buried as deep in the closet as he could manage. Especially during the upcoming case.

It was a battle he'd have to face alone.

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**The End

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Notes: I just wanted to try a bit of a different type of story, hope you liked it, and I'd appreciate it if you took the time to send me your thoughts. Having some writer's block on quite how to finish the next chapter on 'What a Beautiful Mess'. Hopefully a few oneshots will get me going again, and get me to finish and post the next chapter tonight (July 21).

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End file.
